


tip of your tongue

by thebonerpit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Phone Sex, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebonerpit/pseuds/thebonerpit
Summary: Tom has a terrible gag reflex and Robert just wants to help, aka, 2020: the year that inspires us to make mouth swabs sexy.
Relationships: Robert Downey Jr./Tom Holland
Comments: 11
Kudos: 162





	tip of your tongue

_“Happy to see you’re being safe, even if that looks very uncomfortable. Awful gag reflex, by the way. Miss ya underoos.”_

Most of the time, Tom assumes Robert never even sees his Instagram posts. He figures he’s too busy with other way more important movie star type things, or hanging out with his family, or doing literally anything other than browsing Instagram for hours like Tom does when he’s bored. But of course he happens to catch the one where he gags about two seconds after having that evil fucking swab shoved down his throat. It’s embarrassing, to say the least. He can practically see Robert’s smirk as he reads the DM.

Tom feels his cheeks colour slightly. Emboldened by the two beers he has just downed, he quickly types out a response and hits “send” before he can change his mind.

_“It was horrid, but worth it. And yeah, haven’t had much chance to practice. xoxo.”_

He throws his phone down on the couch so hard it bounces off and hits the floor.

“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing for it and sinking back into the cushions in relief when the screen doesn’t show any visible cracks. Then he stares at it for a good ten minutes, totally NOT waiting for a response from Robert. Not at all. But when one doesn’t come he groans and buries his face in one of the big, soft pillows beside him.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he says into the fabric. “I wonder how long it would take to suffocate myself like this.”

“Are you saying something?! Why d’you sound like you’ve got your head in a jar?” Harry yells across the house. Tom groans again but launches himself off the couch and in the direction of Harry’s voice, leaving his phone on the coffee table, hoping for a distraction.

Ten o’clock that evening there’s a notification blinking at him. Tom nearly drops the phone again in his haste to check it.

_“Didn’t think so, a good boy like you. Take it from someone who knows… practice does make perfect. I hear bananas work well. You have those in England, don’t you?”_

Tom makes a painful, strangled noise that has Harry running to see if he’s broken something.

For some reason, they keep texting. It moves from Instagram DMs to actual text messages and Tom thinks that’s meaningful in some way… maybe… or not. Sometimes they’re flirty, sometimes they’re completely benign. Tom’s working on Uncharted and it keeps him too busy to dwell on it most of the time, until there’s a break in shooting for a week and he’s responding to Robert’s texts WAY too eagerly and he’d be mortified for himself if Robert wasn’t responding just as fast.

One night, after a few beers (again, god, he really needs to stop drinking) he sends a video. Because he has been practicing, actually. Not with bananas but with his toothbrush every morning, so that’s what he uses. He smiles at the camera and then opens wide and slides the handle into his mouth, taking care to concentrate on his breathing. His tongue pokes out underneath it and if he curls it slightly around the handle it was only to hold it steady, of course. The brush goes in a respectable distance until he feels his throat spasm and he gags slightly as he pulls it back out. His eyes water but he smiles again and does a completely dorky thumbs up before cutting the video off.

He cracks open another beer to wait with but the response comes almost immediately.

_“Jesus, you’re pretty. Working hard, I see? Very good, I’m so proud.”_

Tom blushes at the praise and squirms happily, kicking his feet a little. He’s alone in his hotel room, who fucking cares, Robert makes him giddy and he’ll kick his feet if he wants to.

_“Aww you really think I’m pretty? I am working hard. Can even do it with the banana.”_

_“Show me.”_

Fuck. FUCK. Tom hasn’t even attempted the banana yet but he didn’t expected Robert to respond… like that. He hops off the bed, grabs it from the bowl in the kitchenette, and immediately sticks it in his mouth.

“Peel it first, you absolute fucking moron,” he says with a grimace, and takes another swig of beer to wash away the taste of banana peel. He only has one banana, though, so if he’s gonna do this he has to film it right away or else it might start falling to bits after, er, repeated use. So he sets up his phone at an attractive angle and hits record.

He smiles again, less cheesy this time and what he hopes is more seductive, before turning slightly to the side and opening his mouth. The sweetness is almost overwhelming on its own, never mind how much thicker the banana is than a toothbrush, but he takes it slowly and slips it over his tongue. He has to close his lips around it, there isn’t really any other way, so he takes the opportunity to glance at the camera when he does, eyes lidded and slightly hazy from the alcohol. He stops about halfway down and makes a pathetic little sad noise because he knows he’s almost at his limit but fuck he wants to impress Robert so badly… so against his better judgement, he keeps going. Tom pulls out every trick in the book: breathing through his nose, squeezing his thumb in his fist, pressing up with his tongue. He makes it further than he did with the toothbrush before he chokes and slides the saliva-slick banana back out of his mouth with a wet gasp. There is a silvery thread of spit connecting his bottom lip to the end of the banana, and he stares directly in the camera as he licks it away.

This time there are actual tears in his eyes, and one slides down his cheek as he leans in to rasp out, “Did I do a good job?”

When the FaceTime notification pops up he nearly falls off the edge of the bed. There is absolutely no time to make himself look presentable or cool in any way, so he sets up the phone on the nightstand and answers with a tear-streaked face and a little bit of banana in the corner of his mouth.

Tom assumes Robert is in L.A. but it’s dark in whatever room he’s calling from, his face lit up by the soft glow of a desk lamp. A small thrill shoots up Tom’s spine at how blown his pupils are.

“What are you trying to do to me, hm?” he says, his voice quiet and half-wrecked.

“I’m just doing what you told me to… sir…”

Robert growls – actually GROWLS – and Tom feels it in every nerve of his body.

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm. Practicing.”

Tom’s always been terrible at dirty talk, and he doesn’t think he’s ever had phone sex before, but he is an actor, so he lets himself slip into the role of someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. It’s a lot easier with a scene partner like Robert.

“Practicing… yeah, I’ll bet. Practicing for something even bigger?”

“I… I don’t know. Am I?”

Did he really just ask Robert Downey Jr. how big his dick is?

Robert smirks and bites at his plush lower lip.

“Show me your hands,” he says.

Tom furrows his brow, confused, but raises his hands up anyway.

“Perfect. Lovely, long fingers. Put them in your mouth.”

It’s an order, and an order given so confidently and almost carelessly, like he knows Tom is going to obey. It’s devastatingly attractive.

“H-how many?”

“Start with two. As deep as you can.”

He does it. He tastes faintly of banana but it’s quickly washed away down his throat as he gags on his own fingers.

“Easy, sweet thing, no rush. Work them in nice and slow, close your lips around- yes, perfect, just like that…”

Tom’s eyelids flutter closed and he just lets Robert’s words wash over him as he slides his fingers over his tongue, deeper and deeper into his throat. His teeth knock against his knuckles and he moans when he realizes they’re in as far as they can go.

“Perfect,” Robert says. “Now suck.”

A whine escapes around his fingers, unbidden, and Robert answers with a low groan. Tom hollows his cheeks and does exactly what Robert tells him. He slides his fingers back out a bit only to suck them back in, almost petting his own tongue. He tries to go a bit faster, almost fucking his own face, but the repeated motion makes him gag again and he wrenches his hand away, coughing and sputtering and wiping spit off his chin.

“S-sorry,” he gasps, more tears spilling over his cheeks.

“Oh, no, you’re doing so good, baby,” Robert reassures, “so fucking good.”

He sounds breathless, and Tom wipes at his eyes so he can see him better. Robert shifts in his chair and Tom can see his arm moving under the desk and oh holy fuck he’s jerking off, he’s jerking off right now on the phone and Tom is about to DIE.

“Lemme see,” he blurts out, his eyes desperately focused on Robert’s arm.

Robert pauses and raises an eyebrow.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please! Shit, please, please lemme see.”

“Are you sure?” His voice is more serious this time. He knows that this is a line that is about to be crossed. It’s almost sweet, in a way, that he’s concerned about getting Tom’s consent and all, but really Tom was already winding up to fucking pole vault across that line so he just nods furiously and shoves his fingers back in his mouth to whine around them again.

Robert exhales through his nose and pushes his chair back from the desk. His fly is open but his trousers and underwear are still mostly pulled up so all Tom can see is his cock. And fuck, it’s a gorgeous cock. Thick and dark in his hand, wet at the head where he’s been leaking during their little conversation, one prominent vein that is just begging to be traced with his tongue.

“There,” Robert practically coos, “is that better, sweet thing? Can you imagine this in your mouth instead of those pretty little fingers?”

“Mmhmm,” Tom answers around the digits in his mouth. God, he can practically taste it. He’s rock hard in his jeans and part of him wants to touch himself too but Robert didn’t say he could, so he settles for rubbing against the mattress as he sucks on his fingers. There’s more saliva in his mouth and it’s starting to make everything sound incredibly wet and filthy, slurping and popping and squelching, but Robert seems to love it.

“I bet you’d look so damn good on your knees in front of me… those big eyes… fuck.”

Tom shifts around on the bed so he’s facing the camera, so he can look directly into the lens. Robert’s eyes flash when he realizes what he’s doing.

“God, you’re such a good boy, aren’t you? So obedient. So eager to please.”

He nods and continues to suck on his fingers, adding in a third to stretch his lips even wider.

“You’re gonna make me come, baby,” Robert mutters. His hand is flying over his cock but his eyes are laser-focused on Tom’s mouth. “Gonna make me shoot all over that pretty face.”

Tom is fairly certain he’s never been this turned on in his entire life. He lets his fingers slip out of his mouth.

“Please, I want it,” he gasps, and opens his mouth wide, tongue out like he’s waiting to taste everything Robert is willing to give him. He looks up at him through the lens, fluttering his eyelashes and petting his tongue with his slick fingers, and Robert comes with a harsh shout. Robert comes because of _him_. It makes him tremble and rut against the bed and within a few seconds he’s making a mess of his own boxers like he’s a teenager again.

There’s an echo of harsh breathing for a few moments as they both ride out the aftershocks, and then Tom hears shuffling from Robert’s end. He looks back up to see him tucked under the desk again which makes him pout. He misses that dick already.

“It’s gonna be a while before we see each other again,” Robert says. He’s trying to look casual, but Tom can tell when he’s acting. God knows he’s seen it enough. “We should stop texting. You’ll forget about this by then, and I won’t feel like as much of a creep. Hopefully.”

“Or…” Tom starts.

“Or?”

“Or, we keep texting, and I keep practicing, and when I see you I won’t have forgotten ANY of this and I’ll be able to suck your brains out through your gorgeous dick.”

Robert’s eyes widen, and then he throws his head back with a ridiculous sounding guffaw of a laugh. Tom laughs too and blows a kiss to the camera when Robert’s face is back in frame. He shakes his head but mimes catching it and pressing it to his lips.

“I could be ok with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


End file.
